


Fashionably late.

by The_Ascended



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Pre-established relationship/courtship, just a short soft thing bc im weak, shhh he's sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:47:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28632738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Ascended/pseuds/The_Ascended
Summary: Aragorn pesters Elrond into agreeing to organise a summer party - Elrond agrees without considering that Lindir would take all of the work as usual.
Relationships: Elrond Peredhel/Lindir
Kudos: 37





	Fashionably late.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short, quick and relatively undetailed little piece to sate my own appetite for the concept of Elrond having to carry Lindir to bed lmao

The summer festivities were approaching, a party Imladris would host for its inhabitants as well as any guests willing to partake from the other allied realms. For elves, summertime would roll over just as quickly and ordinary as it would forever though for the men summer was a time to be joyous and Aragorn had quickly made sure the Lord knew it.  
Thus when he was old enough to request such things, he had begged Elrond to host something for his people (but mainly for Aragorn) and after weeks of constantly bringing it up either after meetings or during dinner, the Lord relented. Aragorn would have his festival this year. Though the ranger would prefer it if it were every year, he decided to take what he was offered – besides, he could always resume beginning next spring.  
It was to be a rather minor affair – food, music, dancing and beds for guests of course. The only elf feeling any sort of pressure was Lindir. Over the coming weeks invites would return signed, beds were to be arranged, food to be ordered and prepared, decorations to be organised and music, as well as other entertainments, to be scheduled and the Lord’s assistant would go on to do it all diligently as usual. Perhaps he had neglected his rest and perhaps also his health but what was most important to Lindir was perfection and he would settle for no less. 

Like any overworked, stressed and tired assistant would experience – there was a snapping point. When the Woodland realm’s invited returned weeks late, signed not only by the Prince but by the Elvenking himself, Lindir simply put the papers down and laid his head on his desk. Where he would proceed to yell into the wood for a good moment or two.  
“There are more proactive ways to release one’s frustrations, Lindir.”  
Lindir shot up, almost knocking his chair over in his haste. He placed a hand on the back of it, steadying it. His Lord stood in the hallway, hands behind his back and an amused if slightly concerned smile greeted the assistant’s own slightly horrified (and very embarrassed) expression.  
“I apologise, my Lord. I had assumed to be alone. It will not happen again.” Ever the apologiser, Lindir bowed his head slightly, hair thankfully covering his burning ears. He looked up, fully expecting to be reprimanded though of course Elrond never would. Instead, he frowned – was his Lord… laughing at him?  
“No, no. Don’t apologise. I think I’d do the same if receiving any correspondence from the Royals of Eryn Lasgalen, my dear Lindir.” Elrond chuckled, smile unfaltering as he eyed the letter. “What was it… ‘fashionably late’ I believe Thranduil put it last time.”  
Lindir could not help but smile, yes. Fashionably late. He turned to pass his lord the week’s schedule, which he had assumed he was here to collect – he held it out behind him, reaching to grab some rotas that would go along with it. Once it was taken, he turned back around with the rest of the papers, adding them on top of the schedule in the Lord’s hands. “I have begun to work on next weeks, though it may be… a tad later than usual, my Lord.” He winced as he spoke – he hated underperforming and the Lord knew it.  
The Peredhel gave a soft sigh, examining his partner’s face and body – the old habits of a healer would die hard as they say. Lindir was visibly fatigued, not an easy feat for an elf. Eyebags, relatively poor posture, dry eyes and though he would never point it out for fear of his assistant combusting on the spot, he slurred his words ever so slightly. “Melleth, when was the last time you slept?”  
A good question – one that Lindir could not, off the top of his head, answer. “S-slept, my Lord? Ah…” He thought back slightly – possibly a week? No, he could not give such an answer. His Lord was far too busy to worry about his assistant’s self-care. “P-perhaps a day?”  
Liar. Elrond smiled softly, placing a gentle hand on Lindir’s shoulder. “Sleep tonight, lest I drag you to a bed myself.”  
And with that, he was gone. Leaving Lindir feeling… almost faint with exhaustion and something unnameable. He placed his own hand where his Lord’s had been a moment earlier before returning to work. Perhaps in his isolation of work he left himself pining – he snorted at the thought.

Two more days passed, and finally Lindir could say he was done. He had kept quiet and despite sharing an office with Elrond he had not yet been scolded. Perhaps the Lord was under the impression Lindir had finally rested – after all, he had tried very hard to conceal the fatigue in the mirror just hours earlier. There was one task left to do, and though he felt his hand shaking and eyelids drooping he reached still for the folder of blank schedules. Once this was done, he could finally rest. 

Elrond of course thought no such thing and had instead resigned to observing his dutiful if stubborn assistant from across the room. He considered making good on his previous words and marching Lindir to a healing room where he could be put to rest however ultimately thought the assistant would not thank him for it.  
The day bore on, hours ticking by with only the sound of the occasional bird and the scribbling of quills from both elves. The stars had begun to shine through the window, and Lindir had rose to light the lamps around the room before resigning back to his work – ignoring the eyes that bore into his back the entire time. He was not ignorant of his Lord’s gaze, but thankfully worked with his back to him. There he could pretend he was alert and healthy, happily working away when in fact from the front, he was half asleep and his handwriting could possibly be compared to that of an elfling’s.  
A couple hours passed, and Elrond had been far too engrossed in his letters to notice anything off. It was not until the light of the moon reflected off of his glass that the Lord finally broke free of his concentration and stretched back in his chair with a slight groan. “Lindir, go on to bed. I’m finished here, I’ll meet you there. ” He stood slowly, organising his letters – no reply. “I mean it, I want to make sure you sleep tonight…. Lindir?”  
The assistant was indeed still at his desk, head in hand and quill poised as if ready to write but it remained stationary for some moments. Elrond called his name again to no avail. He stepped forward a few paces, leaning slightly to see if his assistant was well. Ah. With a slight sigh, Elrond crept closer and removed the quill from the sleeping elf’s hand, setting it down in its holder and moving the paper (now quite ruined with leaked ink) into a waste bin.  
“Hey…” He gave Lindir’s shoulder a slight squeeze, wanting only to wake and not alarm the other. Nothing. If he were not so amused, Elrond may have been annoyed – not with his beloved in particular but with his work. It concerned the Lord constantly that his aid would often work himself sick and though Elrond was always more than willing to care for him, he was never allowed to. Well, this time it looked as if he had no choice. With a final squeeze, he straightened up and assessed the situation – Lindir was clearly heavily asleep, perhaps and more likely passed out. Elrond pulled Lindir back against the chair, catching his hand before it fell too harshly on the desk. From there on, he slid an arm beneath the sleeping elf’s knees and an arm over the other’s arms but under his back. He had not held an elf like this since Elladan passed out drunk on the fountain – Elrond almost snorted at the memory before stealing himself, just in case the noise would disturb the other. 

The halls were lit but quiet and Elrond met no other aside from a tired looking Erestor who merely raised his eyebrow and moved on – it was not his place to question the Lord but he certainly would be questioning Lindir when he next saw him. Elrond simply moved on with a nod. Lindir’s chambers were closer but Elrond instead headed for his own - they were larger, comfier and he could quite easily watch over him there.  
He removed the silver circlet after laying Lindir down, one that very nearly matched his own – a gift from the Lord himself at the begining of their relationship. Elrond set it down on the nightstand and set to work removing Lindir’s outer robes, folding them and putting them over the end of the bed for the following day. 

"Elrond?" Lindir mumbled, eyes only opening slightly to look about him.  
"Yes, I am here." Came a reply - Elrond hummed softly, making his way into bed after slipping on a more suitable robe to sleep in. "Shh melleth and rest, come here."  
Elrond pulled Lindir to his chest, stroking his back softly until he felt his assistant relax into it and return to sleep. They would stay there until the Lord felt Lindir was well enough - perhaps longer. No... Definitely longer.


End file.
